


Fake Relationship; Real Feelings

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Adult Peter Parker, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Public erections, Sharing a Bed, Skiing, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-23 18:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18555202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: "He's never gone skiing, and that's a crime," Tony had said, putting an arm around Peter's shoulders and bringing his hand up to tug gently at the short hair at the nape of his neck.  That was around when Peter blue-screened.  "We're crime fighters, aren't we?  Pretty sure that's in the job description.  If not, HR needs to get on that.  Avengers: may be required to fight aliens, HYDRA, crime, and/or boredom.  Who could pass that up?"





	Fake Relationship; Real Feelings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> Your prompts were all great!
> 
> It has been a very long time since I've been skiing. Please forgive me anything I got grievously wrong. I mashed some trails together. One of these slopes was real as of two decades ago, though I'm not 100% sure it was actually a Vermont one. There is much less skiing than this author's note would lead you to believe.
> 
> Thank you so much to kmfillz for all your help!
> 
> Redating for author reveals. Sorry if anyone sees this twice! (And, uh, about suddenly having All the Fic at once; I wrote four fic for this exchange, plus posted two recently, plus one more that's coming soon.) This is not Endgame compliant, as it was written for an exchange with a due date prior to Endgame's release.
> 
> Content advisories in the end notes.

It wasn't important why Peter was in bed with Tony Stark. Honestly, he had kind of zoned out of the briefing upon hearing that he was not only going to have the opportunity, but was actively being encouraged to put his hands all over the object of his long-standing affections and like 95% of the reason why Peter had known he liked guys since he was a teenager. There had been something about alien arms dealing under cover of a couple’s retreat and the fate of the world, or at least the state of Vermont if any of the power sources went critical, blah blah blah, pretty standard fare for Peter's life these days.

Tony had volunteered himself, because he knew what he was looking for and was their best bet for disarming anything potentially unstable (which he claimed was everything, because the people making these weapons had no idea what they were doing, and which had been borne out by the explosion that had brought this to the attention of the Avengers in the first place). He had volunteered Peter, because—Peter wasn't sure why. Something about winter break, Peter being back from university, and how it would be fun.

"He's never gone skiing, and that's a crime," Tony had said, putting an arm around Peter's shoulders and bringing his hand up to tug gently at the short hair at the nape of his neck. That was around when Peter blue-screened. "We're crime fighters, aren't we? Pretty sure that's in the job description. If not, HR needs to get on that. Avengers: may be required to fight aliens, HYDRA, crime, and/or boredom. Who could pass that up?"

Peter had retained enough of the briefing to know he was mostly going to act as camouflage who could take care of himself in the event of more explosions.

So yeah, it wasn't important why Peter was in bed with Tony Stark. What was important was that Tony had his hand up Peter's shirt, spread out across his stomach, and his thigh between Peter's legs, pressed heavy against Peter's semi. It was dark. Moonlight drifted through the window to limn their bodies. Tony was breathing deep and open-mouthed, the draft of it warm and humid against Peter's ear. Every hair on Peter's body was standing on end, and it wasn't because they were in danger.

It was the first night. Peter could already tell that it was going to be a long, long week.

***

The first day included a casual get to know you breakfast. Tony kept stealing food off of Peter's plate and at one point offered Peter a taste of his own. Considering Tony was eating some sort of monstrous omelet made with half the breakfast bar—the omelet chef had been amused by Tony's challenge to wow him with something he'd never seen before—Peter had rather forcefully declined. Halfway through breakfast, Peter had gotten up and made himself a new waffle, because Tony had stolen most of Peter's. Peter didn't blame him. Strawberries did not belong in omelets.

When Peter got back, another couple had taken the bench side of their table, leaving Tony in the chair.

"You don't mind, do you, dear?" Tony spread his knees and pulled Peter into his lap. He rested his chin on Peter's shoulder. His hands bracketed Peter's hips. When he spoke, his breath was warm against Peter's ear, and Peter was suddenly, instantly hard, back in that awkward moment from last night, except morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the breakfast nook and Tony was awake. "They asked so nicely to share that I couldn't refuse them."

Peter smiled sweetly, like he wasn't dying inside, and said, "I don't mind."

Tony's hands kept moving, couldn't seem to stay still. He'd squeezed Peter's hips when he introduced Peter. He brought his right hand up as he was talking, and when he brought it back down, it was onto Peter's leg. Tony's palm rested on the top of Peter's thigh. His thumb slipped over the edge, brushing his inner thigh. He moved it restlessly, soft little strokes and circles a couple inches from Peter's dick. His left hand fiddled with Peter's belt loop, occasionally pulling and shifting his jeans just enough to provide the barest, most frustrating tease.

Peter couldn't recall a single thing Tony actually said. He ate his waffle on automatic and tried not to cry when Tony's goatee brushed against the side of his neck. He started in on Tony's awful experimental omelet, not tasting a bite.

"Isn't that right, honey?" Tony asked.

"Mm, definitely," Peter agreed, no idea what he was agreeing to. Tony's left hand had crept up under Peter's shirt, the tips of his fingers trailing along the hem of the waist of his jeans, the blunt edge of one nail gently catching against Peter's bare skin. Peter felt like he was going to combust.

"Then we're agreed. We'll see you tonight." Tony reached around Peter to gather up the empty plates. "It was nice meeting you." There was a pause Peter realized too late was expectant. "Sweetheart, I'm going to need you to stand to let me up."

Oh. Right. Peter really did not want to stand up right now. "I'm not done eating?"

"Then you're going to need to get up to get more food, because that plate's empty, babe."

Fuck. Peter braced himself. They were all adults here, and Peter dared anyone not to react to spending time in Tony's lap while he felt them up. Peter was only human. Peter adjusted himself before standing. Apparently the only person who'd had no idea what kind of effect Tony had been having was Tony himself, because his eyes flitted down and he swallowed before looking back up.

Peter smiled grimly. "I'm going to grab a quick shower. I'll meet you out front."

"Sure," Tony said. "I'll go look at skis. Or did you want to snowboard? I can look at snowboards."

"I really don't care." Peter patted Tony on the shoulder and let him take care of cleaning up after them.

When he reached their suite, he didn't bother undressing and didn't make it further into the room than closing the door behind him. He pulled out his throbbing dick and came in a few quick pulls, shuddering and oversensitive. He let the back of his skull thud painfully against the door, slumping against the wood.

Peter wasn't sure how he was going to survive the week.

***

If Peter had thought Tony would treat him any differently following breakfast, he would have been disappointed. Though disappointed didn't come anywhere near what Peter was feeling as Tony knelt at his feet and helped get his boots into the skis.

"I'm just not sure this is a good idea," Peter said, steadying himself on Tony's shoulders.

"You can throw yourself off buildings, but you're afraid of a little bunny slope?" Tony asked. "Foot forward, toe in—just like that. The heel snaps in. Step down."

"It's not that I'm worried about getting hurt." Peter put his left foot on the other ski when Tony tugged at his pants leg. "I just don't want us to miss anything at the resort."

"We're at the feeling each other out stage. No one's making any deals this early in the week." Tony straightened out Peter's pants where they twisted around the tops of his boots. "Plenty of time to learn to ski."

Peter got comfortable moving in the skis on a flat surface, got a feel for how they pulled at him, the weirdness of basically having a pair of planks attached to his feet. They tried a gentle incline next, Tony showing him how to bleed off speed by crossing back and forth across the slope.

"You can also make a wedge, but that's not as much fun," Tony said. "Also, bad idea when you add in some of the rougher terrain."

"Shouldn't I have ski poles?" Peter asked.

"Did you want to go cross-country?" Tony said it like he didn't care if they blew off their responsibilities to go trekking miles from the resort. Even if nothing was supposed to be happening yet, Peter wanted to stay close. He shook his head. "Then no, not unless you really want them."

Tony led them to the lift. "You're a natural. Let's try something a little more fun."

They ended up in front of a sign that had a couple black diamonds painted side by side. There were little bumps of snow partway down the slope. A section of trees stood to their right. There was a smoother section to their far left. Tony's eyes glinted with something like excitement, something like challenge.

"What do you say, Peter? Which way?"

Peter took them straight on.

When he hit the bumpy section, he went briefly airborne with a whoop of delight, landing with a spray of fresh, powdery snow in his face. Tony's laughter echoed behind him. The sun glinted overhead. Cold leached at his body and the wind cut at his cheeks. Everything was great until Peter drifted a little too far right and hit a tree.

"Oh, shit." Tony's voice came at a distance, closing quickly.

Peter lifted his head up from the furrow of snow his body had created. He'd clipped the tree and kept going, on his side instead of on the skis. He had snow in his mouth. He was missing a glove and the knit cap he'd been wearing. One of his skis was up by the tree. The other was still attached, pushing his leg into an awkward angle when he rolled onto his stomach.

"Ow," Peter said, but he didn't hurt that much. Mostly he'd had the air knocked out of him. He brushed snow out of his hair as Tony glided to a stop by the errant ski. He hefted it, went down a few more feet, and stopped again to retrieve Peter's glove.

"Maybe I should've told you to stay in the middle." Tony's voice was light when he reached Peter, but his brow was furrowed. He pushed up his ski goggles and looked Peter up and down. "What's the damage? Do we need to call rescue? Can you stand? Did you want to try walking down?"

"Give me back my ski." Peter held out his bare hand. "I want to try that again."

The grin that stole across Tony's face was beautiful. "Thatta boy."

***

Peter was sore when they came down off the mountain, and not just from the encounter with the tree. He'd used muscles he didn't even know he had. Though he knew they'd go back to normal soon enough, they ached pleasantly right now. His whole body thrummed with adrenaline and endorphins.

It was late afternoon. They'd missed lunch. Tony had been more than happy to indulge Peter and take the lift back up again and again. They went back to their rooms to change into dry clothes. Tony stretched after pulling off his puffy winter coat. Something in his back popped, and the groan he let out was low, not quite pained. It hit Peter right in the gut.

"Gotta hang everything up if we want it dry tomorrow," Tony said, putting word to deed, stripping and hanging each article of clothing after it was off him. "Or we could buy new, but people keep telling me that's wasteful and I should wear something more than once before trashing it." When Tony smiled like that, Peter had a hard time telling if he was joking or being self-deprecating. Peter was already distracted by the fact he was pretty much getting a strip tease here. All he needed was music to accompany Tony peeling off his undershirt, his shoulders flexing as it cleared his head. Peter was kind of … playing the music in his head. "Sorry, should have asked—did you want first shower?"

Peter had only just gotten his coat and gloves off. He'd caught his breath, and yes, okay, was already entertaining impure thoughts about Tony, but Peter was damp and cold and entirely unprepared for the mental image of Tony warm and wet and naked to match the half-naked Tony standing in front of him. All things considered, Peter's voice was admirably steady as he said, "You go ahead. I had one this morning."

Tony's lips quirked at the corners. "I'm sure you did." He went for the bathroom door. "Feel free to grab another, though. We agreed to meet the Bradshaws at the pool for cocktails, and you brought back half the mountain with you."

Peter ran his hands more thoroughly through his hair and discovered pine needles.

***

They changed into their swim trunks and went down to the pool, where there was an open bar and a dozen other couples milling around.

Peter stuck to mocktails, but Tony loaded up on more alcohol than was wise for someone who'd had three-quarters of a waffle and two bites of omelet over eight hours ago and nothing but a single piece of shrimp since. Tony had grimaced at the hors d'oeuvres on offer, swallowed the piece of shrimp he'd grabbed, and said, "Yeah, no. We're ordering pizza when this is over."

Tony knocked back his first drink, left the empty glass at the bar, and led Peter toward the jacuzzi.

"I thought we were meeting someone here," Peter said.

"We're mingling. And by mingling, I mean I'm sitting with my back against a jet of hot water until I feel a little less like I'm going to die." Tony smiled at Peter's look of concern. "I'm okay. I just overdid a bit and am feeling it. Maybe I'll book a couple's massage for tomorrow evening if we go skiing again." Tony slipped off his sandals and slipped into the jacuzzi. "It'll be fun."

"We don't have to go out again. There's plenty to do here." Peter sat on the tiled ledge and stuck his feet in the water. His right knee was by Tony's left shoulder. Tony stroked a finger up Peter's shin, from the top of his ankle to just below his kneecap.

"Worried you're going to melt?" Tony asked. He took a sip from his second drink, which had a little umbrella.

"I don't want to drop my drink in," Peter said. He was pretty sure ginger ale and grenadine wouldn't be good for the jets.

"Then leave it out."

Peter nudged his shirley temple further from the water and slid in, the heat immediately enveloping him. It was nice. Tony shuffled over and pulled Peter with him, so Peter got his turn with his back against a jet. He couldn't help the low moan as it hit just the right way.

"Why don't we have one of these?" Peter asked. The Compound could only be improved with a jacuzzi.

Tony's smile was dark, appreciative. There was a click as Tony sat his glass on the ledge. He draped an arm around Peter's shoulders. "We do. You've never used it. There's a whole mini spa you made a video diary of, then ignored."

Peter had taken video of pretty much the whole Compound when he'd first gotten to see it as a real Avenger, or at least as much as he'd had access to. Tony had even let him into his personal quarters, laughing over Peter's reaction to the full bar. He hadn't really spent much time by the pool area when there had been several labs to mess around in and an outdoor obstacle course like a giant playground.

Peter let his head loll against Tony's shoulder. "Mm. Then I'm going to have to start using it."

Tony ran warm, wet fingers through Peter's hair. "Fair warning that Wednesdays are no-suit Wednesdays."

Peter closed his eyes. He was feeling a little overwhelmed, overheated. The pressure against his back was perfect. Tony's fingers carding through his hair was perfect. Tony's shoulder, pressed against Peter's cheek, was perfect. Tony traced little circles in Peter's scalp, and it was perfect, perfect, perfect.

"It's not fair that after all these years, I still can't tell if you're messing with me."

"Oh, have you been together long?" came an unknown voice, because nothing perfect could last.

"It feels like forever," Tony said as Peter opened his eyes.

One half of one of the couples wandering the poolside was climbing in on the opposite side. She drew them into what seemed like meaningless chatter. When Peter started to straighten up, Tony's hand tightened in his hair, pulling the slightest bit in quiet warning. The gentle tug was like lightning traveling down Peter's spine. Peter stayed where he was, and Tony's hand left his hair. His fingers trailed down the back of Peter's neck. They slid across his shoulder and dragged down his back, his side.

Peter kind of … zoned out. He knew they were on a mission, but Tony's fingers toyed with the waistband of Peter's swim trunks, and everything slid past in a buzz of white noise. The tips of Tony's fingers dipped slightly under the elastic as Tony pulled Peter a little more firmly into his side.

"Oh, no," Tony said in response to something, and he brought his other hand up to splay possessively across Peter's chest. The pad of his middle finger brushed against Peter's left nipple. "I don't share my toys. Though I might be interested in acquiring more."

Peter swallowed hard and did his best to look like someone who was there as decoration, nothing more. It was probably helped by the way he really couldn't focus on anything past Tony. He shifted his hand down Peter's front, tracing his breastbone, the cut of his abs, dipping briefly into his belly button. Peter stifled his whimper against Tony's shoulder when Tony stopped at the drawstring of his trunks, resting lightly there for a very fraught thirty seconds during which Peter wondered if he was about to get a handjob in front of a stranger from someone he wasn't actually dating.

He could've done without the audience, but Peter ached with how much he wanted it.

Tony's hand abruptly withdrew. He let Peter go. "Come on, darling, we're headed back to the room."

"What about the Bradshaws?" Peter asked quietly after they'd toweled off and were in the hall, headed for the elevator.

"That was Mrs. Bradshaw," Tony told him in a low voice. He'd put a hand to Peter's back as they'd crossed the room, and he hadn't removed it yet. "Pretty sure we just made successful contact with our arms dealer. That, or I lined up a threesome. Maybe both. We'll see if she shows up to our rooms tonight in a robe and lingerie."

"So why were we in such a rush to leave?" Peter asked.

Tony smirked as they reached the elevator. "Because their suite is empty."

Which was how Peter ended up searching someone's rooms while sporting a semi. Tony might have billed this as a vacation, but it was not restful. Not in the least.

***

"Okay, so maybe she wanted a foursome," Tony admitted when they'd turned up nothing and Mrs. Bradshaw and her husband showed up on their doorstep later that night, though at least they were wearing regular clothing.

"You think?" Peter asked, unable to help the testy quality to his voice considering Mrs. Bradshaw had attempted to greet him with a kiss. He'd never thought he'd use his dodging and evasion practice for this.

"I'm sorry, but there's been a misunderstanding," Tony said. "My sweet little bunny here doesn't share, either. We've got an exclusive sort of deal going here."

"And here I thought you wanted to expand your repertoire, Mr. Stark," Mr. Bradshaw said.

The hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood straight up.

***

So yeah, turned out they'd found the arms dealers on the first full day of the retreat, even with going skiing.

***

The Bradshaws had brought their merchandise, but not to sell. Apparently they objected to Peter and Tony's earlier snooping. There was a bit of a firefight. Peter was half-naked, because he'd been getting ready for bed when they'd knocked. Tony had been able to immediately suit up, because he carried the nanite housing everywhere, including the shower and bed. Peter didn't have a shirt, much less his web shooters.

Peter got hit with an energy blast that put him through the double balcony doors, over the balcony railing, and into the snowy ground below. It felt worse than wiping out skiing. It was also very, very cold.

After a minute, Peter made himself get up. Blood dripped down the side of his face. He looked up at the balcony now high overhead. He sighed and made his way toward the closest door. It needed a key. Of course it did.

"Left that in my other boxers," Peter told the card reader. He resigned himself to climbing up the side of the building. "This is not a vacation."

"Consider it a working one." Peter looked up. Tony hovered there before reaching out a hand. Peter took it, letting Tony enclose him in his arms. "I left the Bradshaws tied up upstairs. Let's get you out of the cold before you get frostbite on any important bits."

Their room was a disaster. Tufts of fluff from the sofa drifted through the air. The balcony was littered with glass. Scorch marks dotted the carpeting. There was a smoking hole in the widescreen TV. The wall abutting the bedroom was gone. The Bradshaws were sprawled out on the ground. Some kind of electric netting encased them.

"I think we're going to need a new room," Peter said.

***

Astonishingly, the resort let them stay. After law enforcement had descended and Tony and Peter were absolved of further responsibility, they settled into a corner room located on the same floor that wasn't open to the elements.

Or maybe not so astonishing.

"What am I going to do with a resort? I don't know, maybe I'll use it for yearly SI or Avengers retreats. Look, I didn't program you to question my purchasing decisions, just facilitate them. They said they'd been looking for a buyer. I'm a buyer. Make it happen, FRI."

"You got it, boss."

Tony flopped onto the bed. "What a day, huh?"

Peter dropped their bags to the floor. "It was definitely something." He paced to the left side of the bed. "So I've got a question."

"Shoot." Tony stretched, starfishing across the mattress. "But not literally, because I have had more than enough of weapons fire today."

"One room," Peter said.

"Yeah, I can't believe I'm about to buy this property and they couldn't scrounge up another suite, either. They should be rolling out the red carpet. It's almost like they know they've got me by the balls with the whole blowing up part of the building thing."

"One bed," Peter pointedly continued.

"It's a big bed." Tony rolled until the left side was empty.

Peter crawled into the empty space. He kept going until he was kneeling over Tony, knees on either side of his hips, hands above his shoulders. "Mission's over, Tony."

"Yeah." Tony's hands came up to frame Peter's face. "Guess everything that happens next is all us."

Peter leaned down and kissed Tony. Tony let out a low sound of want, mouth opening up for Peter. His hands fisted in Peter's hair. Their bodies were barely touching, but Peter was suddenly, desperately hard, like he hadn't come once earlier that day, like he'd been on edge for weeks instead of enduring a few moments of light teasing interspersed throughout the day. It was like his body remembered every time Tony had touched him and was ready to hit resume on riding the high of sexual urgency.

Tony tugged Peter's head back, and Peter couldn't help the moan when Tony didn't bother being gentle about it. "Please tell me you don't want to wait for the third date."

"I don't want to wait for the first one," Peter said.

"Good," Tony said and pulled him back. They just kissed at first—if one could call what Tony did with his mouth _just_ kissing—but eventually Tony flipped them and pulled off his shirt. He pushed at Peter's, too, and Peter took it off, throwing it to the side. Tony stopped to stare a moment. He shook his head, a smile pulling at his mouth. There was something sad in his eyes. "Sometimes it's hard to believe you're real."

"I'm real," Peter said. He kissed Tony again. "And really desperate for you to take your pants off."

Tony did. Peter took the opportunity to do the same, scrambling out of his clothes and dumping them on the floor. Tony reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over the bruises forming from Peter's trip through the balcony doors and his ultimate destination hitting the ground. Tony pressed his lips together. He looked furious, but his touch was achingly gentle.

"I'm okay," Peter said.

"You are," Tony agreed.

Tony was careful when they ended up on the bed this time. He kissed every scrape and bruise, taking his time, and Peter wouldn’t have believed there would come a day when he would complain about anything involving having sex with Tony Stark—not least because he'd never believed it could happen—but this was killing him.

"Tony, you've spent all day edging me," Peter said. "Please. I'm begging you. Let's do something that will actually let me come."

"I know for a fact you came up here to rub one out this morning," though Tony did reach down to wrap his hand around Peter's dick, "while I had to stand around in the gift shop knowing you were upstairs touching yourself. Then I had to watch you indulge your inner adrenaline junkie for seven straight hours. Do _not_ ," Tony tightened his grip, "talk to me about being sexually frustrated today, kid. You won't win."

Peter felt like he was winning, naked in bed with Tony jerking him off in firm, confident strokes. "You're the one who touched me first."

Tony dropped his forehead against Peter's. "We had a cover to maintain."

"And _that's_ why you nearly stuck your hand down my swim shorts."

"Exactly. It was my pleasure and my privilege, but I maintain that it was absolutely necessary for the sake of selling it." Peter bit his lip, pleasure curling tighter in his gut, as Tony ducked his head to lick at the same nipple he'd touched a few hours earlier. "This, though? This is just for fun."

"That's all it is?" Peter asked, going for cocky, but probably falling closer to insecure. "Fun?"

"No." Tony's eyes were dark, serious. "You have always been so much more to me than a bit of fun."

"But I am fun?"

Tony's grin was sudden, warm, infectious. "Peter, you are so much fun." He nipped Peter on the chin. "Even when you're falling down a mountain because you couldn't bother watching out for the treeline."

Peter would have liked to dispute this version of events, but he was too busy gasping as Tony pulled him into an entirely different sort of freefall. Tony petted him through it, watching Peter intently, until Peter weakly pushed his hand away.

Peter smiled. "You're fun, too."

"Thank you." Peter didn't think Tony was talking about the compliment. Tony got up to retrieve some tissue and wiped his hand off. "So not to be that guy, but yeah, okay, I'm going to be that guy." Tony gestured down at where he was obviously, incredibly hard, a deep red and wet at the head. "Can I get some sort of reciprocity here? I could take care of myself, but—"

"I want you to fuck my face," Peter blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth, because no, he'd meant to work his way up to that. Surely this wasn't going to be the only chance he'd get. Then again, that was a look of genuine interest on Tony's part. Peter lowered his hand. "Um. Please?"

"You sure? You kind of just fell off a building. Most people want to take it easy after that. I was just thinking that you could give me a literal hand—or at least handjob."

"Yes." Peter had had dreams about this. He'd dreamed about it last night. It was what had woken him in the early hours of the morning. "I'm very sure."

"Okay." Tony shook himself. "Okay. Is there a way you want to do this?"

"Can we—standing? Or, uh, you stand, and I'm just going to—" Peter slid to his knees on the floor. He looked up at Tony, who stepped close, closer, until his dick was right in front of Peter's mouth.

"Going to let you get us started." Tony threaded his hands through Peter's hair. "But first—pulling? No pulling? You seemed to like it earlier."

"I really liked it," Peter admitted. "Pull as much as you want."

Tony petted his hair first. His voice was soft. "How did I get this lucky?"

Peter leaned forward, licking at the tip of Tony's dick, then swallowing it down. Tony's hands tightened in his hair. Peter bobbed his head a couple of times to get a sense of rhythm, then let Tony take over, pumping slowly in and out.

"Fuck, kid, you feel so good." Tony hissed in a breath. "You take it so well." Tony went deep every time, and Peter blinked watering eyes. There was something in him that settled at Tony's words, at the feeling of Tony using his mouth and throat, at the knowledge that he barely had to do anything and could make Tony happy. Peter gave a quiet hum of satisfaction, and Tony groaned. "You're, oh, you're so good at this."

Tony didn't last terribly long. He pulled out after a couple minutes, removing his hands from Peter's hair to work himself.

Peter's voice was a wreck as he said, "You could come in my mouth."

"Fuck." Tony came on Peter's chest, chin, and neck instead. Tony looked like he was almost surprised by his own orgasm, eyes wide, lips tight. Tony thumbed at a single drop that had landed on Peter's lower lip. "Next time, maybe."

Next time. Peter held the words close to his heart, like a promise.

Tony helped Peter up. He dropped kisses on Peter's mouth like benedictions, hopeful and sweet. He said, "Come to bed with me. To sleep this time. Stay the week."

"Tony—"

"I know the mission's over. I know, but. Let's do this couple's retreat as a couple this time." Tony knocked his head against Peter's. "I can, I can teach you to ski cross-country. I'll get you a snowboard. We'll do that couple's massage."

" _Tony—_ "

"The real world will come back quickly enough, Peter. Please. Give me this. Give me a week to pretend we can make this work."

"Tony, I'm saying yes." Peter ran his hands up Tony's back. "But not for a week. We can do better than that."

"You think?" Tony's voice was wistful. "What kind of timeframe are we looking at here?"

"I was thinking forever," Peter said.

Tony laughed. He sounded pleased; he sounded approving. "Ambitious."

"Confident," Peter said.

"Let's start with a week. We can go from there."

***

It was a short week that passed entirely too quickly.

At the end of it, Tony said, "So. Trial run. A success? Because I'm thinking it was a success. Maybe we could've gotten out of the room a little more, but I think we acquitted ourselves admirably."

"I stand by my original forever," Peter said.

"Next year," Tony said in a low voice like he was promising something else entirely, "I'm taking you snowboarding."

***

When they returned to the resort for their one year anniversary, no alien weapons dealers, no mission, just two people on something like a second honeymoon, their previous suite was repaired. The damage had been wiped away, but the memories remained. Standing in the door to their room, watching Tony shuck his winter coat, Peter was determined to make some even better ones.

They did: that year and then the next—and in all the years that followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Content advisories: Age gap, probably there are references to IW, canon-typical violence, lots of touching under the cover of fake dating, public erections.


End file.
